You Got My Counsel
by JannP
Summary: Kurt is worried about Rachel and all he wants is to be a friend...and maybe he's gunning for a Finchel reunion, too. Slightly AU from the 2X20 onward. Inspired by Dashboard Confessional's "Thick as Thieves".  Mentions Finchel and Klaine.
1. Chapter 1: I Don't Break Easily

_**A/N: **__Mad props to Laura (__**tjcrowfoot**__) for validating my need to write this. I love the Kurt/Rachel friendship and I'm not satisfied with the hot and cold nature of it. This is my gut reaction- y'know, writing to fix what I feel is a shortcoming with the show. Hope y'all enjoy. Just do me a favor and review to let me know, if you please. I've left it open-ended and I'm not totally against continuing. That said, I don't have any definite plans. There are minor possible spoilers through the upcoming episode, but I don't really know anything so… if you're trying to go spoiler-free though it might be best to wait. Title and lots of inspiration for this from my favorite __**Dashboard Confessional **__song __**Thick as Thieves.**_

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Glee. I don't own Dashboard Confessional, either. Although I would have nothing against borrowing Chris Carrabba's talent._

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><p><strong>You Got My Council<strong>

**Chapter 1 - I Don't Break Easily**

There's a dividing line. He knows it and she knows it. He knows it because he notices but doesn't push the boundary. She knows it because it's a boundary she created. She swore to herself for so long that if she had friends, there would be nothing in the way—she would share everything. But then she did and she messed it up and she can't go back. So now there are dividing lines and boundaries and compartments. A compartmentalized life is not that bad, really.

There are some more obvious taboo subjects. The most obvious, for example, is competition-related discussion. She gets why he went to a different school, she really does. And it made it easier, erased some of the boundaries, because he wasn't her direction competition anymore. But actually, he still is in some ways. Not Blaine, she isn't competing for _that_. She isn't stupid or frivolous as much as some people, those who bother with her at all, call her a silly little girl. She doesn't want to compete for it anyway because, once she knows about them being together, her friend's radiant happiness is enough for her.

Enough for her to kind of bitterly wish for her own, but that's a different compartment. She isn't getting into any of that with him.

So she's busy thinking about the different shapes of the different compartments. Would they be square? Would they be star shaped? She would like to think so because she wants everything to be stars, but really she thinks they would either be squares because they are definite or maybe circles because they're never ending. She isn't going to be able to get rid of them now. Another 'he' told her once that she was making a comeback, that she looked like the old version of herself and the one he fell in love with. She didn't have the heart to reply that she sealed that girl off and she won't be that girl again. No matter what, she just _can't_ be that girl again. She can't be the girl who completely loses herself in someone else, in chasing someone else, and then in being with someone else. She just…she _can't_. She's not miserable, she's actually quite happy with the way things are going overall, but she's still just this new girl and she will always be.

So the new one, this girl in the square compartment, sits at coffee with her friend and scribbles away in the notebook. She had such a hard time tapping into that deep, emotional compartment for her original song and now she thinks that compartment wasn't a square, but was more like a _box_. Pandora's box, to be precise, and she has to get the words onto paper or she thinks she'll probably die. Okay, not _literally_die, but she certainly won't be able to think of anything else and that will just be a problem because finals are coming up.

"So… Rachel… did you want to talk?" Kurt says slowly. He sips his coffee before he sets the paper cup down on the table. He fidgets with the cardboard grip that's wrapped around the cup, twisting it slightly so the seams line up with the seams on the cup. Blaine will be here shortly, having planned to arrive a little later for their weekly coffee date, but it doesn't appear to matter because this absurdly bubbly, loquacious girl has just been writing in her notebook for the last half hour without saying much at all.

She pulls her head up from where she's writing and looks at him honestly. She's kind of afraid if she opens her mouth, song lyrics will fall out. And since she has a nagging feeling Mr. Schuester is going to ask her to whip a new song out of her back pocket for Nationals, she definitely doesn't want to let Kurt know. Even though he's back at McKinley and will know _eventually_, she's afraid she would be embarrassed. See, last time she wrote a song, she didn't have to worry about his opinion before he heard the finished product. She puts her songs in a compartment, maybe _that's_ the star-shaped one, until they're ready to be unleashed. None of them are ready yet, so they will stay hidden away for now. It's safer not to speak. She smiles and looks down at her notebook.

"So…prom with Jesse? Stakeouts with Finn?" He prompts, his voice growing a little more annoyed with her reticence to share. "I'm worried about you, Rachel." There's no mistaking the concern rolled in with everything else.

"How…" she looks up and clears her throat.

"I know because, unlike you, _Finn_ talks to me. I don't think he necessarily always mean to, but…he does. Now that I'm home, I can't turn him off." His eyes widen a little when her eyebrows go up and her eyes sparkle a little with amusement. "That came out wrong. I just mean I wish he came equipped with a mute button because it's almost like the guy _can't_ shut up now that he has someone to talk to."

"I don't…I can't…" she stammers. "I'm fine, Kurt. I appreciate your concern, even if you're masking it with nosiness, but I'm really quite fine."

"Finn blurted out in front of our whole class that you're beautiful. You didn't say anything. I had to work with Puck to get it through your thick head, for God's sake. _Puck_. The same kid that threw me into dumpsters. I did that _for you_ because I'm concerned. And now I hear you're going to prom with Jesse. He victimized you, Rachel."

Rachel sighs and puts her pen down to look at him honestly. "Yes, but that was a long time ago. He's apologized. He's trying to apologize."

"There are things you can't apologize for."

"You worked with Puck and you _just_ pointed out he threw you in dumpsters. And somehow I doubt he actually apologized."

Kurt gives an idle shrug and takes another drink of his coffee. "I just see things through new eyes now that I'm back. And it's clear you are not the same. I was looking forward to battling it out for solos with you and trading snarky remarks about fellow Glee clubbers who are substandard."

"I'm finding it a bit easier to bite my tongue these days."

"No kidding," he coughs out. "You've had a lot of practice while you've been watching Finn and Quinn, I would imagine." As much as he wishes Finn had a silencing button of some sort, he's hoping this is the babble button on Rachel Berry.

Her tight swallow is visible and she takes a drink before she comments. "That's different."

"_How_?" He pushes. Turns out it was _not _the babble button_. _If she won't talk about Finn, maybe she doesn't _have_ a babble button anymore. That's even more troublesome.

See, he knows she went with Finn to spy on Quinn and sat next to him. Finn's last nearly-indiscernible paragraph of rambling Rachel-related-speak was filled with details on that little outing—what they had found out and how embarrassed he was and _why on Earth_ didn't Kurt mention what was going on even a little bit sooner and…

She can't explain to him that it's a different compartment, it's crossing a line to even get into it, and she can't step outside her well-constructed boundaries now. She thinks she might finally be bouncing back, inching toward letting go, and she knows she needs to do that. She needs to focus and she needs to just be the best and get out of here. She needs to focus more on her goals and less on her distractions. As much as she doesn't want to admit Quinn was right, well… Quinn _was_ right in at least some of aspects of her nasty diatribe.

"It just is," Rachel finally says with a shrug. She takes another small sip of her tea.

"Why don't you tell me about the stakeout thing?" Kurt pushes. Now that she's put her pen down and removed her nose from the notebook, he's going to take advantage of it.

"I thought Finn already did," she said simply. "In fact, you saw the end result when I lashed out at Sam in class. And you went with us to get the guitar back from the pawn shop, so…what exactly are you asking me?"

"You sat in that abominable old truck with Finn for over two hours. Do you mean to tell me nothing happened?"

"I'm not feeding your inner gossip monger," Rachel says primly. She picks up her pen and he sees Blaine approaching and it looks like this opportunity to _really_ check on his friend is slipping right through his well-manicured fingers. He sighs.

"Listen, Diva, I know you have some bottled up feelings about everything you've been through in the last few months. I heard about the MVP thing and the teary speech about being accepted by that group and…and…"

Blaine's hand rests on Kurt's shoulder as he drops into the chair they had purposefully saved for him. The physical contact is his greeting for Kurt, and he gives a genuine smile and a soft "Hey" to Rachel. Kurt responds by raising his own hand to touch Blaine's where it rests and Rachel responds with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. She picks up her pen and both she and Blaine are fairly shocked when Kurt leans forward to rip it out of her hand.

"Stop that! We're _talking_," he says sharply. "If you won't talk about my stepbrother, then we really need to broach the subject of Jesse St. James and just what in the hell you're doing there."

Blaine frowns. He's heard that name before… he just isn't sure he can place where. He looks over at Kurt, but Kurt is so focused on Rachel he redirects his gaze. "Who's Jesse St. James?"

"Rachel's dirtbag ex-boyfriend who broke her heart and egged her in the school parking lot," Kurt answers, his eyes never leaving Rachel and his voice full of steel. "With whom she's rumored to be going to Prom next weekend."

"Egged her?" Blaine looks between them. "As in _threw _eggs? I..I…You shouldn't be going to McKinley if that behavior is consistently tolerated. Slushies are terrible and what Dave did to you before is assault…"

Rachel's quiet words cut in. "The egging was terrible but it wasn't as bad as the other major thing he did."

Blaine leans forward to focus on her, not looking at Kurt any longer. Both of their concerned stares are just about enough to make her shut that compartment, too. She hasn't discussed this with anyone else, not really even with Finn when he pushed a little. He backed off then. She isn't sure if she hopes Blaine and Kurt will now. She isn't sure she wants to pry the lid off this compartment. She thinks maybe they are all more like boxes and maybe they should stay sealed off.

"There was _more_?" Kurt asks, his voice low.

She can feel tears in her eyes and she's now dead certain she doesn't want this box opened. Blaine's hand fumbles to reach hers. His touch, a symbol of his friendship, gives her a little strength and a lot of support. Even if she lost a lot of her friendship with Finn, even if she sealed all that off so tightly, she kind of got two for the price of one with Kurt and Blaine. She really _is_ glad Kurt is back at McKinley, and she really _is_ glad she has them to talk to and maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to let a little bit of it out. There has been pressure to do that since Jesse came back, and she's been worried she might break under the weight of it. Maybe she can talk without spouting off song lyrics. Maybe it wouldn't kill her. And maybe she can do it with just this one thing so maybe she doesn't have to get into any of the rest of it.

"Well…do you remember how Miss Corcoran was the coach of Vocal Adrenaline?" Kurt nods, and Blaine's eyes narrow, so she dips a toe into the water, so to speak. Maybe if it's a box, it can be a box filled with water and she can just get into a little bit. This box seems like it might have a shallow end and a deep end and…well, maybe she is ready to get her feet a little bit wet even if she doesn't dive _all the way_ in. "So, obviously she had a close relationship with Jesse."

"I'm not sure I like where this is going," Kurt says flatly.

"Well, I had some reason to believe maybe she put him up to getting she and I in contact," Rachel whispers, her words right on the heels of Kurt's. Kurt sits back in his chair and folds his arms tightly across his chest.

Blaine is still missing something important. "Why would…" he reaches out and takes Kurt's coffee, helping himself to a sip and it doesn't really clarify his confusion.

"Miss Corcoran is Rachel's biological mother," Kurt fills in quickly, his icy eyes never leaving Rachel's. She's managing to hold back a flood, so she thinks she might've been right that it was okay to dip her toes in just a little. But she doesn't think she can go any further in. She just…she just _can't_. She just adds it to the list in her head of lines not to cross, of topics to avoid—of things she doesn't really want to deal with.

"So he…so…" Blaine's grip on her tightens. "Are you only going to prom with him to get back at Finn?"

"What?" She lets out, the word nothing more than an indignant gasp. "How do you… _no_," she stumbles a little, then finishes firmly. "_No_."

"That's what Finn thinks," Kurt interjects. "You're actually hurting him, you know."

Rachel blinks and the dam breaks a little bit, but the flood doesn't escape. Just two tears that kind of tell Kurt everything he actually needs to know. "That's ridiculous."

"And I think you're hurting yourself _more_." Kurt leans forward. "You march around acting like you're fine, but you aren't."

She bites her lip and shakes her head. "May I please have my pen back."

"_Why_ are you going to prom with Jesse?" Kurt asks, ignoring her plea—both of them, really, because her eyes are begging him to stop.

"Closure," she finally squeaks out. "All right? I need closure. I need to put a lid on all that and move on. That applies to a lot of things, a lot of relationships, in my life."

"Is that why you haven't been out on a single date since Finn?"

She _knows_ she can't go there. Alarms go off, bells and whistles ringing in her ears, and she just shakes her head. She can feel the tea she's drunk swimming in her stomach and it _hurts_. It all hurts. "I…"

"Rachel, just…just _please _talk to me."

She can't. She just…she just can't. "I thought you wanted to be more like Fleetwood Mac and only speak about the music."

"Okay," Kurt says. Blaine is just looking back and forth between them, not necessarily falling behind but not exactly keeping up, either. "Let's talk about the _music_. Let's see your notebook."

She snaps it closed and shakes her head. "No." She closes the notebook. She closes the compartment. She ducks her head and wipes the tears away from her cheeks. She inhales one deep breath, clearing the water out of her lungs and that drowning feeling and she looks up at him with a smile. "Let's talk about something else. Do you know what you're wearing for prom?"

Kurt recognizes the shut-down. He sees her do it every time she starts to fall apart. He honestly wonders if she ever _really _feels safe enough to fall apart. The last time he could remember that she didn't seem guarded was at the wedding. She was there with Finn and she was happy. She was affectionate with him even; they danced forever, whenever she wasn't dancing with his brother, and she chattered endlessly about everything imaginable. She was a ray of sunshine.

Then everything around her fell apart. He was dead certain she wasn't innocent, but he wondered if she knew what she had done wasn't forever. Finn had obviously moved on—not in the sense that he didn't want to be with Rachel anymore, but in the sense that he felt like he could count on her again. In the end, she was the only one still carrying around all the hurt and still crying about trying to get it right and…

He really wishes he weren't in the middle in this scenario. How had he _really_ made friends with Rachel in the first place? Well, maybe he can find another way to help his friend. She clearly needs his expertise, even if she is too proud to ever ask.

"Finn said it looks like something from Braveheart."

"You're still not going to carry a shield or utter a Scottish speech, though, right?" Blaine cuts in, looking over at Kurt and away from Rachel. "You promised."

Kurt nods and can't fight the grin that ties itself to his words. "I know what I promised."

Rachel's phone chirps from its place on the table and she jumps before she picks it up to look at her text message. "I'm sorry, I need to go. My dad is outside. We're trying to find my prom dress."

Kurt shakes his head. "If I didn't know your dad was perfectly capable I would insist on going." She rises from the chair and starts gathering up her things, then holds her hand out with the palm up to ask for her pen back. He slaps it back in her hand and lets his fingers wrap around her hand. "Please text me pictures before you commit to a purchase."

"Of course," she agrees. She smiles, now feeling a little more comfortable on the safe side of all the lines she's drawn through their friendship and through the space around her. "You shall have final say."

"That's all I ask," he says simply. He flips her hand over and kisses the back of it before she bounces off, issuing a small wave to Blaine.

Blaine looks over at Kurt. "You are a horrible interloper."

Kurt sighs as the last of Rachel's skirt disappears out the coffee shop door. "Well honey, they need me to be. You saw the mess that happened after I left."

"You are a horribly _conceited_ interloper," Blaine adjusts with a smile, taking the sting out of the words.

"Just call me a matchmaker. Mark my words: now that they've given me something to work with, they'll be back together by Nationals." He looks toward Blaine and drops the conspirator's smile from his face. "I just hope Finn doesn't kill Jesse at prom."

"I seem to remember you saying something about interfering in their relationship before and it not going so well," Blaine says. He puts his elbow on the table and then leans his face into his palm so he can face Kurt.

"Well, my aim was different then. This time…well, now I think I'm pro-Finchel."

"What does that even mean?" Blaine asks, his confusion and maybe slight distaste spread on his face.

"Finchel is a portmanteau of their names," Kurt explains. "That's what glee called them when they were a couple."

"Well that's kind of ridiculous." Blaine says slowly, but his eyebrows dent in concentration anyway. "What do they call us?"

"Hmm. I don't know," he started. "Finn started calling him and me 'Furt' after the wedding. I think that was the last new one I heard before I left."

"Well…so are you turning it into Furtchel?" Blaine asks. "I mean…you really think you want to meddle here? Did you see her _face_? It looked like you slapped her when you said she was hurting him."

Kurt nods and a smile spreads across his face. "I think they already did it for me. But really… Furtchel is just going to lead to Finchel. I'm going to make sure of it."


	2. Chapter 2: Keep Your Guard Up

**A/N: **Well I'm coming in a few hours ahead of tonight's show, so I must admit that a) this is all spec. I don't really follow spoilers overly much (I don't avoid but I don't look for them either) so yeah… b) it will probably all or almost all be canceled out in a few hours. Either way, I hope you enjoy it and I HOPE there is some positive Kurtchel friendship tonight. As I said before, I adore them. And I'm glad you all agree. Click and let me know what you think, mmkay? Thanks for previous reviews and I will get to the individual thank yous as soon as the site will let me.

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own Glee or any of its associated products. This update was heavily influenced by the **Mumford & Sons** album **Sigh No More. ** Good stuff, but other than the copy I bought I don't own that either.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 – Keep Your Guard Up<strong>

Kurt paces around in front of the door to the bathroom. It's not like he's loitering; he just finished faster than Rachel did. Given the circumstances earlier in the evening, he felt it best to accompany her. He even gave her some privacy, which he had been loath to do for the most of the week with Jesse St. James sniffing around. He rolled his eyes at his own thought process. Why must he think of that stupid boy with both a first and a surname? It seems rather impossible to think of him as anything other than an ass, and anyone other than his entire title. Regardless, Rachel was abandoned by her date just before the prom court announcements so Kurt feels only right taking over custodial duties. Besides, it isn't as though she is an interruption to his date with Blaine; Blaine loves her just as much as Kurt does and the other boys have stepped up to dance with her a few times each and it seems she is managing to have a decent time with her showy, slightly gaudy smile firmly in place. He hates that smile but he hasn't seen anything else all week, not since coffee.

At least she's removed her face from that pink notebook a few times and she's been participating in Glee rehearsals. And he absolutely, completely, and totally refuses to acknowledge that has been while Jesse St. James was filling in for Mr. Schuester.

There he goes again with the proper names. Ass.

Rachel comes flying out of the bathroom, not even stopping as she passes him and continues on down the darkened hallway. He frowns and starts walking in the direction she fled, trying to figure out all the possible reasons she would be storming out of the _bathroom_ of all places. He's about halfway down the hallway, having just watched the pink cloud she makes up turn the corner, when he hears the creak from the poorly-maintained door hinge of the ladies restroom and he sees Quinn come out. Even from his spot halfway down the hall, he can see her hands shaking as she slides them over the top of her dress' skirt. She blows out a breath and then heads with evenly metered steps back toward the gymnasium, the opposite direction from him.

_What in the name of hell?_

He shakes his head. This (being Rachel) has got to somehow be related to _that_ (being Quinn). He smirks for just a second when he remembers he's labeled Quinn that same way for the last two weeks, really ever since his return to McKinley to see how much _she_ has changed in addition to the way _Rachel_ has changed. The two are whatever would be the opposite of complimentary toward either girl. Finn has asked him several times to just _stop it_, but being a brother becomes him and harassing is way, way easier than ceasing.

He rounds the corner and sees Rachel tucked down, crouching into a doorway in front of the closed door. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her hand is pressed to her mouth, turning the sobs into squeaks instead of wails. He frowns again. Yes. _This_ is _most definitely _related to _that_.

Now, normally when she cries, it's on a stage. She cries for an audience. For her to seek out a dark doorway, for her to shrink into it like she's wishing she could disappear—it screams louder to him than she does when she's pissed off. If he was concerned before, if he has been concerned all week, he's flat out _worried sick_ now.

Rachel heard him coming; she's upset but she isn't deaf, even though her ears are still ringing. Her cheek stings, that slap was _hard,_ and she's never slapped anyone like that so what did she do to deserve it? Okay, there _was_ the once she slapped Finn; she would like to think she slapped him harder than that because she'd actually felt like ripping his head off then, but either way it feels like someone whipped her skin and the sting is fading into a dull ache that is rapidly attaching itself to the headache she already had. The skin feels slightly swollen against the protective palm of her hand. She just can't talk to him right now because the lines are fading, the compartments are falling apart, and the breach has created a flood. Now it won't be song lyrics if she opens her mouth, it will be sobs. She's been accused of overdramatics for far too long to allow that now. She wouldn't want anyone to think she's blowing this out of proportion and she _certainly_ does _not_ want to give Quinn Fabray the satisfaction. No, she just has to find some way to get _rid_ of Kurt so she can get home on her own. Her dads are quite likely in bed, but they would come and get her if she asked.

And then they would call the police. If there is one thing they understand, it's starting due process.

She doesn't want that either. She just wants this night to be _over._

She feels a body settle into the doorway next to her and without a word, he pulls her against him. She goes willingly enough, not even sure if she wants to pretend his chest belongs to someone else or if she wants to make believe it's her bed. She really just wants it to be her bed. Her hand falls away from the side of her face and he gasps.

"Honey, we probably ought to get some ice on that. It's starting to bruise."

His fingers trace the angry mark on her damp skin, but she doesn't move other than to shake her head and shrink into his jacket a little more. He awkwardly maneuvers to get his phone out of his right-side inner jacket pocket. His left arm is tucked firmly around her and he only has one hand. It's going to take him a minute to get a text message off—so he needs to decide who he's notifying first.

He probably ought to tell Blaine so they can get her home. There is no one else here who can do that now that he's witnessed what he has. Her pride will not allow it and even if her pride is silent and shaking at the moment, it always comes back with a vengeance eventually. He throws his legs out from his body, settling onto the hard floor a little better before he sends a quick message to Blaine.

_HELP ME. Down the hall and around the corner from the bathrooms._

He thunks his head back against the closed door and sighs. At least he can't _hear_ her crying anymore. That's a start. A start that leads to where, exactly? He double sighs. Even if he's her friend, this is not _his_ problem. This problem belongs to someone else who quite likely has larger concerns at the moment. While he's trying to organize these thoughts, finding a way to categorize and prioritize, his impatience gets the better of him and he fires off another text message to the first person he actually thought needed to know.

_You have a HUGE problem. Call me ASAP. 911. NOW._

"Will you please take me home?" Rachel finally asks, pulling away from him enough to sit up and wipe at her cheeks and dry the tears. Her hand brushes over the sore spot unintentionally and her face twists a little.

"Yes," he says. "I've already asked Blaine to come find us." He holds up his phone even as it buzzes in his hand. He lowers it with interest, half hoping it's a promise to call. It's not; it's Finn responding to the 911.

_I know but later._

Kurt shakes his head. Of course Finn is in the middle of drama. That's what happens when your fist lands in the middle of Jesse St. James' face. But he needs to realize the importance of what Kurt is dealing with here.

_No. Not later. NOW. It's about Rachel._

As he finishes putting the phone back in his pocket, Blaine comes almost flying, half running around the corner and then slams to a stop when he sees them both sitting in the doorway, even backtracking a couple of steps. Rachel has turned away from him to rest her forehead, almost tiredly, against the metal doorframe. Blaine's eyes shift back and forth between the silent pair.

"What happened?"

Rachel pulls her head up from where it's rested and Kurt watches her move. He can't really control his worry now. She still hasn't actually answered that question and now she's moving _slowly_ and he isn't sure he's ever seen this whirlwind of a girl slow down. At least while she's been writing and hiding in her notebook, even her words were scribbling down on the page quickly. Now she's…she's catching up and he is dead certain she isn't going to be happy when she realizes what happens and when she catches up and then reacts, her reactions are terrible and stupid and knee-jerk. But she kind of looks like she doesn't even have the energy to get mad. She just looks small and tired and slow and it's _wrong._

Kurt's phone rings out, Bruno Mars slicing through the thickened air around the threesome and he gasps out. He didn't expect Finn to actually _call_ him. He is reasonably sure Finn landed in it _hard_ when Schue dragged him home after the pseudo-fight. Carole is going to have something to say, having kept a lid on her reaction to Finn's reaction to Jesse for far too long. It's all blowing up in his face, and Kurt has to admit he doesn't feel bad.

Well…okay. He feels kind of bad for Rachel. If Finn weren't _so_ good at denial and _so_ oblivious to actual action versus consequence, none of this would be happening. Neither here nor there at this point, and he stands up while he whips the phone to his ear. He tries to show Blaine he's sorry with his eyes and he can't even look at Rachel right now; the best he can do immediately is to alert Finn.

"Hello," he hisses, sounding a little more urgent than he actually means to in his effort to speak quietly. He's walking quickly with his head down, trying to distance himself from Blaine and Rachel so Rachel won't hear. Even if she _knows_ who he's talking to, it isn't like she showed any sign of awareness.

"What the hell, Kurt? I really don't…I just don't…I can't do this right now."

"I don't even know where you _are_," Kurt says quickly. Finn's usual bumbling, even when mixed with the amount of frustration and whatever else, is just tiresome. Never moreso than when there is urgent news—so Kurt bypasses it and just drops the bomb as quickly as he can. "I just thought you would be interested to know that I'm pretty sure Quinn bitch-slapped Rachel."

There is a big, huge, really long pause. "What? Are you _serious_?" Kurt can hear Finn's super annoyed exhale and then he makes this other little noise that just sounds painful. Kurt frowns. How are his friends so screwed up? And why, _why_ does it have to be his newly-acquired brother who messed up so that he's right in the middle of it all? He presses the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Sympathy headaches are _totally_ the worst kind. Finn's words help just a little, though. "Is she okay?"

"I hope to hell you're asking about the right _she_," Kurt murmurs, shaking his head a little.

"Rachel," Finn clarifies. His voice is so tender, so…so…something right out of an epic romance. Kurt kind of fights the urge to swoon. Of course, it's easier when that urge is balanced with one just as strong to lay Finn out in a way Jesse failed to do; if he condoned that sort of violence, anyway, which he doesn't. Of course. Usually. Generally, he can handle whatever he needs to armed with nothing more than vicious wit and wicked fashion sense, but Lord knows his dear brother has_ neither_ of those.

"Undetermined," Kurt finally says. "Me and Blaine are trying to get her home now."

"Look, I…I can't meet you there. I know what you're thinking. In fact, I have to go."

"Finn…"

"No, Jesse is pressing charges. The _cops_are here. I…I can't. Please take care of her."

"Oh, _Finn._" Kurt gasps. He can't help it, even if Rachel would roll her eyes and tell Kurt he's being too dramatic. Like it's supposed to be chastising instead of just ironic coming from her. "Do…" he wonders what to do here. Support the brother or support the friend? "Do you…"

"Just go with her, please," Finn says and it sounds kind of like he's begging. "I can't… I just…tell her…I have to go."

"Okay," Kurt asks. He hears the line disconnect abruptly and his heart falls. He turns around and sees Blaine approaching and he's _carrying_ Rachel. Her face is pressed into his neck and Blaine is just walking and watching Kurt from far away like there is some major explanation necessary. It's an explanation Kurt doesn't feel like he can give.

For her part, Rachel can only really cling to Blaine. He doesn't smell right, but it doesn't matter because all of her carefully drawn lines and the compartments she built have all blurred together and it just doesn't _matter_. He smells clean, maybe more like Calvin Klein something but that's okay. And he's warm and steadier than Kurt. Kurt pats when he hugs and she doesn't want pats, she wants something, just _something _that doesn't feel broken like she feels. She wants something steady so she can use it to brace herself while she redraws and rebuilds and while she goes back. She's kind of ashamed—okay, utterly humiliated—that they've seen her so very broken. Blaine is steady enough he can hold onto her while she cries and she'll feel like she's at least _hidden_. And she can only hope Kurt will keep it to himself. If he can keep it to himself, she'll at least be able to face everyone on Monday.

She doesn't know _why_ it's embarrassing, exactly. She knows what Quinn is like. She never thought Quinn was so…so _nasty_, honestly…but she'd caught glimpses before and tonight was certainly her biggest peek. She wishes she could just pretend she didn't know because now she really doesn't understand how Finn could choose Quinn over _her._ She's learned her lessons about being nasty. She's learned those lessons painfully. She has a compartment for each lesson and the person she is now is so far from the person that needed to learn all that. He deserves someone who isn't so hurtful and so _hurting_ because she hurt him badly enough. It isn't fair for Quinn to hurt him _again_ and she knows that's what will happen.

She's vacillating back and forth for the entire drive home between wanting to tell Finn and wanting to keep it secret. There is no way she could come out of telling Finn without looking like a total shrew, and that's the last thing she wants. She also doesn't particularly want his _concern_ because she doesn't want him to think she's playing victim. She just…just wants him to go back in time and make it so that doesn't happen. But an eyes-closed wish like that never did anyone any good and she knows, she has _learned_ she can't go back, it's just that the lesson is lost somewhere in the wreckage and she needs to find it.

Blaine carries her once again, and leaves Kurt to search through her small purse for her house key. It works and she doesn't say anything, hasn't said anything, because Kurt is the one who picked the purse and put her 'accessories' in it, so Kurt is the one who knows where the key is. Once they're up in her room, Kurt begins an obsessive cleanse of her face while Blaine searches, discomfort seeping from his posture, for her pajamas. He finally manages to set them next to her, Kurt manages to choke back his disapproval at the multi-colored square patterned pants that look like a cotton version of a stained-glass window, and she finally brushes Kurt off with a promise she can at least dress herself.

Her phone rings from inside the same small purse while she's in the bathroom. Kurt figures he's interfered enough tonight anyway, why stop now? He answers it without checking the number. He hopes it's Finn, but knows that hope is in vain because the ringtone is not Journey-based. He thinks it's a Lionel Ritchie song, but he isn't positive.

"Hello?"

"Um…" The voice says. "Is this Rachel Berry's assistant?"

Kurt scoffs, knowing immediately it's Jesse on the other end. "Lord no. Maybe her stylist, but that's it."

Blaine rolls his eyes and shakes his head. It's about then Rachel emerges from the bathroom, the hair Kurt spent two hours on completely undone and pulled back into a ponytail with a headband. Her face is scrubbed clean, and the deepening purple on her cheek is more obvious than it was before. Blaine _still_ doesn't know what happened, but he has a feeling it's somehow all intertwined with the fight that erupted between Jesse and Finn earlier and resulted in both being escorted out of the gym, never to be seen again.

"Who is he talking to?" Rachel asks, her voice weak but still clearly dismayed. "Kurt!"

Kurt just holds the phone out to her. She can hear the voice coming through the speaker and she scowls as she yanks it out of his hand.

"Hello?" Pause. "Hi, Jesse." Her cheeks flush a little bit and her hand clamps on her hip. "You most certainly…_no_." She looks up at Kurt, and Kurt decides now would be a fine time to go look for the ice pack he feels certain will be in the freezer. Rachel is so paranoid about puffiness she _must _have something on hand. Blaine is far more comfortable with Rachel than he is _wandering_ around her house so he claims a seat on her bed and watches her while Kurt excuses himself. He rethinks this about ten seconds later when she lets a vicious string of words out.

"You most certainly will_ not_ or I will ask Noah Puckerman to conjure up something worse than slashing your tires. Do you understand? There is no way Finn attacked you entirely unprovoked and quite frankly, your repeated declarations of innocence are annoying and probably untruthful." Blaine's eyebrows go up. Rachel is pacing now, tucking her thumb into her mouth. He kind of hope she moves the nail away from her teeth before Kurt returns because the ensuing lecture is just…it's just too much for a night like tonight. "Mmm-hmm." She sighs and shakes her head. He's still watching carefully. "No, I…I understand that much. I _am_ sorry for how it all turned out." She's pacing and still nibbling at her thumb. She looks up at Blaine, but he can tell from her eyes that she doesn't _see_ him. "Thank you, Jesse."

Blaine's eyebrows go up in surprise and Kurt comes in right about the time Rachel pulls her thumbnail from her teeth and the phone from her ear. One crisis averted.

"So…" Blaine begins, but he's cut off with Rachel's gentle question to his boyfriend.

"Kurt, did you know Jesse called the authorities?"

Blaine's eyes widen just like Kurt's. Kurt steps toward her, reaching out to extend the ice pack. "Please put that on your cheek, Diva."

She smiles in a quick flash and presses it to her skin, hissing just a little bit on her sharp inhale. Her eyes never leave Kurt, waiting for his reply.

"Yes," Kurt admits. "It was Finn who called while we were still at school."

"Did you tell him about this?" She asks, her voice a little more forceful. The force is only diminished by her anxiety. She sits on the edge of the bed and, again, waits. Because she can't just sit and _wait,_ she begins unmaking the bed so she can climb under the covers at long last.

"Y-yes," he says. "He needs to know."

Rachel shakes her head. "No, he doesn't." She drops back into her bed, looking tired all of a sudden. "I wasn't planning to tell him. There's…"

Kurt sits down next to her, pulling the covers up over her arm as her eyes plead with him to undo the information leak. "He does. But you didn't tell him so you don't have to worry about it. You should consider telling your parents, though."

"No," she protests. "I just want to go to sleep and I want it to be over. I'll be _fine_," she insists. "Just please…"

"Rachel, you can't just make all this go away. At some point…at some point you have to open up and share and…I'm not above using spa treatments as a bribe."

She gives a small smile and briefly wonders _how_ she contained all the water when nothing is rebuilt and she still feels so shattered and exhausted. She's at least managed to draw and line and push everything away because now all she wants is to sleep and to be left alone and…and her dad to magically appear with a glass of water.

Kurt's phone chirps and he retrieves it from his jacket pocket quickly to see a text from Finn.

_Is she okay?_

"What else is going on?" Rachel asks sleepily, reading his more paler than usual face.

He raises his hand from her arm so he can type out a reply with both hands.

_No. I don't know what else to do. She won't say anything of value._

"Nothing," he says. He snaps his phone closed and looks up at her. "So start talking."

Before she can obey his command, though, Kurt's phone full-out rings and she knows its Finn's ringtone, but Kurt just jumps up and out of the room before anyone acknowledges any of it. Blaine moves over to where Kurt was sitting on the bed and as Kurt leaves the room, he hears Blaine gently ask to look at the bruise on her cheek.

"Hi," Kurt says, speaking softly because he's in the hallway and he knows that by now it's midnight and Rachel's dads are both long since in bed and totally oblivious to the drama. Maybe they _shouldn't_ be. They need to at least call Quinn's mom. Right now, though, he has other priorities and he'll deal with that himself later.

"Hey," Finn says. His voice is low and quick, his words uncharacteristically certain. "Look, I don't have a lot of time. I don't know what Rachel said to Jesse, but make sure you tell her I said thank you. He's gone, but Mom's still grounding me for the rest of my life and she's trying to take my phone away. You need to get the glass on Rachel's bookshelf that has a star and some ropey thing on it. Get her some water from the pitcher in the fridge, not from the fridge door, only in _that_ glass, and then let her go to sleep. That's all you can do for now."

Kurt's face collapses in confusion. "How.. what…"

"Look, I gotta go. If I can borrow your phone when Mom's not looking tomorrow, tell Rach I'll call and check on her then, okay?"

There is little else for Kurt to do or say, even though he isn't entirely sure he understands the reasoning behind all the orders he was just given. "Of course you can."

Finn's next words are rushed _and_ choked and now Kurt realizes he has _two_ people shutting down on him and _two _friends he needs to really worry about because of they mess they have made. "Thank you. Just…I can't go and I'm glad you're there if I can't. I gotta go. Bye."

Kurt just blinks, lowering his phone and staring at it for a second before he snaps into action. He goes into Rachel's room and, although the light is on a dim setting, he easily locates the glass Finn mentioned, and then goes down to the fridge and follows the other directions to the letter.

Rachel is watching with wide, liquid brown eyes as Kurt sets the glass on the coaster that resides permanently on her nightstand for nights like this.

"How did you know?" She asks, watching him move. He flips the lamp off and then leans over to kiss her forehead in an unusual show of affection.

"Magic," he says. "I know you still believe in it, so don't try to pretend otherwise."

"Thank you, Kurt," she breathes.

They both know she isn't going to sleep anytime soon, but Kurt and Blaine leave her in the darkened room all the same. There are so few people who know about the odd brand of comfort she prefers; she _knows_ Finn told Kurt what to do, and knowing that Finn's influence is there with her somehow, even if he chooses not to be or he can't be… well, it makes it easier to restructure, to rebuild…to survive.

As Kurt softly closes the door, Blaine watches him in amazement.

"Okay, you have to explain to me everything that happened."

Kurt tries not to smile. "Well, as much as I believe I'm a masterful Rachel Berry handler, Finn proved useful." He clears his throat as they move down the hallway and out of the darkened house. "I have strong evidence that Quinn put the bruise on Rachel's cheek. I notified Finn and he told me what to do."

Blaine raises an eyebrow as he reaches for the passenger side door of his car to let Kurt in. "That's just kind of adorable."

"I know, right?" Kurt gushes. He puts his hand on Blaine's shoulder before he drops in the car seat. "And more than that, it just sort of proves that Finchel is alive and well. I _told you so_."

Blaine just nods, not saying anything, waiting until Kurt is securely in the car before he shut his door. Kurt may be a horrible interloper, but as it turns out he's also kind of a matchmaker. And Blaine thinks that's pretty adorable. He kind of hopes Kurt's friends, rapidly becoming _their_ friends, agree.

Blaine gets into the driver's side of the car and backs the car all the way out the driveway before he looks at Kurt with a grin. "So…if they're Finchel, and we're Klaine…what are we as a foursome?"

"Besides a total disaster?" Kurt admits with a wry little smile. "Maybe Klaininchel? I don't know. I'll work on it."

He'll _have _to play with that portmanteau because now more than ever, it looks like a certainty for the upcoming summer and he is _not_ uttering that awkward word again if he can avoid it.


	3. Chapter 3: I'll Keep Your Secrets

_**A/N: **__Okay, so I guess this is now officially AU. I'll pick and choose elements from the last few episodes I like though. Primarily? The song used is __**My Man **__from __**Funny Girl**__. Special thanks to Kenz for the beta and general encouragement. You're freakin' amazing._

_**Disclaimer: **__ I own nothing except my own vicious wit. But especially not Glee, its characters, or the music used within. I'm just playing in someone else's sandbox and no real infringement is intended._

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 – I'll Keep Your Secrets<strong>

Well, she's stopped writing in that stupid notebook. He sighs and smacks his head against the rear wall of the choir room, leaning back in his chair and clinging to the messenger bag in his lap. If only there were something in there he could _throw_…

Finn shoots him a dumbfounded, disbelieving look. Schue asks them to go ahead and move to the auditorium with their new "coach" and the rest of the club gets up slowly and moves, even though they are all questioning each other with their eyes.

_How is this possibly a good idea?_

Well, Kurt has a far more pressing matter on his mind. And, judging by the look they just exchanged, so does Finn. Kurt assumes this is the _same_ pressing matter and is in the form of the small brunette who happened to drop her folder and scatter loose paper everywhere as she stood up. Kurt just gives Finn a small nod to let him know the pressing matter will be handled and Finn hustles out of the room so Kurt can do it in privacy. He knows Finn called to check on Rachel because he supplied the phone that made it possible. He also knows Rachel didn't answer, and what he _doesn't _know is if she didn't answer thinking it was Finn or thinking it was him. She's been kind of off the grid for most of the last week. It's been five full days since prom and she hasn't talked to _anyone_ as far as he can tell. Not just about the incident between her and Quinn (which he thinks only the five of them know about), but about _anything_. Just to be on the safe side, Kurt thinks he should talk to her instead his stepbrother trying to talk to her.

It wouldn't be quite so disturbing and he would let her retreat if he thought she was actually doing it alone. But she's not. There's no way. He knows she's been hanging out with Jesse, and it prompts him to ask the question more harshly than he intends as he stoops down to help her pick up the stack of paper.

"What in the hell are you doing?" He hisses.

She looks over at him with shock. There's no more than a vaguely purple shadow on her cheek now, and he thinks he might only be seeing it because he knows it used to be there. "I'm sorry?"

"Are you dating Jesse again? Please tell me no, please tell me no," he chants under his breath after he issues the question.

She's looking at him out of the corner of her eye and he doesn't miss the grim set of her mouth, either. "Not exactly."

"Well, it isn't a _no_ but it has some breathing room," he admits. He hands her the stack of paper he's been tidying up and as she reaches out to take it, he looks down at it and sees what it—they—are. They are fliers advertising Jesse St. James' services as a show-choir consultant.

"He's just asked for my help. That's all."

"He's asked for your help with what, exactly?" Kurt says. "Meeting in the parking lot? Learning when to duck to avoid flying dairy products?"

He can see her swallow hard and he almost feels bad for reminding her. Not _that_badly because obviously someone needs to remind her, but still.

"No. He's restructuring his life and I think it's admirable. Of course I agreed to help."

Kurt sighs and looks at her, even as she breaks eye contact to put the folder she was holding in her bag. The only time she actually carries a book bag of any sort is when she is arriving or leaving for the day. It used to be the bag on wheels, but she's pared it down to a backpack and she barely even carries _that_. Either way, it looks like she's heading out. "Where are you going?"

"I'm working on something extremely difficult in my voice lessons, so my teacher and Mr. Schuester agreed to allow some extra time."

His eyes widen. "What about Nationals?"

She looks at him warily and she purses her lips a little. "I…I…" she closes her eyes and begs on a sigh. "Please don't get angry."

"The song is _for_ Nationals?" He demands. "You're already the _soloist_ and they didn't let anyone else know?"

She shrugs awkwardly then needs to adjust her backpack. She clings to the strap with both hands. "Well…as you know, my vocal coach went here with Mr. Schuester. They were even in Glee together when she was a sophomore and he was a senior. She approached him without my interference—or really without my knowledge even. Jesse came to my lesson this past Tuesday and agreed outright and…and…"

"Well, of _course_ you're taking it," Kurt says. He wants to keep the bitterness out of his tone; he really does. He just finds it impossible.

She levels a look at him. "Well, yes. However, I also happen to know what Jesse is planning to suggest as a performance strategy and…and I know Mr. Schuester is fighting him on it already. I think there will be more than one soloist."

"What song are you singing?" He asks. She begins moving her feet and he responds in kind before her voice drifts over to him.

"I'm not supposed to say."

He arches and eyebrow and folds his arms. "Is that part of Jesse St. Suckface's strategy?"

She rounds on him and he stops, both of them standing strong and keeping their eyes locked on each other. "I will _never_ understand your guys' preoccupation with changing his last name. And no; I'm not supposed to say because…" her gaze falls a little and her breathing is slower than normal—more forced.

"Because…" he prompts impatiently.

"I'm not sure I can do it, okay? It's a really demanding song and if I have to change I would rather not be ridiculed for being useless. I feel useless _all the time_ these days and so I'm taking control of this _one_ thing."

"Well, Rachel, you know it kills me to admit it because you and I sometimes butt heads or whatever," he glances at her as he reaches up to tug at his hair. He's never going to get used to this haircut and not needing to keep the long bangs off his forehead. "But if there's one thing you have under control, it's your singing. You know that."

She gives him a bland little smile. He never thought he would actually wish to see her teeth, but he wishes he would see her teeth, just once. Okay, well, he's willing to qualify that said incisors need to be part of a blinding, genuine smile. Is that so much to ask?

"You're missing rehearsal," she says simply. When they stopped, it was right next to the auditorium doors and they can hear Mercedes' voice through the wooden panels as they stand there, clearly signifying the rehearsal has begun without him.

"Well, I don't think rehearsal is missing _me_," he clarifies. "Besides, I don't need the practice as much as I need you to answer my damn question."

She rolls her eyes. "What question?"

"Are you dating Jesse St. James?"

She shakes her head and he doesn't miss the dip in her gaze. Her next words practically shock him. "No. I'm not dating Jesse or _anyone_. Maybe ever again."

"Rachel…"

"Look, you don't know what it's like, okay? You just… you can't understand and I hope you never do."

"I'm trying to understand; I really am. I want to. And I think you need a friend to help you sort it all out."

She shoots him a withering glance. "I definitely do not have time to get into this now. I'm going to be late for my lesson, and that would be terribly rude considering my teacher rearranged most of her schedule to help me prepare this song."

Kurt just nods and retrieves his car keys from the side pocket on his bag. "Okay. I'll drive and you talk."

"You have rehearsal."

"Jesse is _not_ going to teach me anything new."

"Your attitude is terrible," she says simply.

"Well, he can't have anything of value to teach me if I refuse to learn from him. That isn't a matter of attitude, it's just a fact." They both start walking slowly toward the doors midway down the hall that will lead to the parking lot.

"It's really better for the team if you go to rehearsal," she argues half-heartedly. She's already falling into agonizingly slow steps beside him, though, so she seems kind of resigned that he isn't going to give up easily. Does he ever?

"It's really better for our star performer if her friend lends a critical ear to the song she's preparing in secret," he bounces back. She shakes her head, pressing her eyes closed as she issues a short, breathy gasp of a laugh. She doesn't issue a retort immediately, though, instead reaching out to push the doors open.

"Who says you're invited?"

"When did I ask?" He redirects almost immediately. He looks down to find the 'unlock' button on his key chain and is unsurprised when the car chirps from the front row of the student parking lot.

"Princess parking?" She looks over at him questioningly. "How did you earn _that_?"

"Well… Dave and I came to an understanding and since he arrives early for baseball practice, we found it only appropriate that he move his car at lunch and allow me premium parking."

She presses a hand to her mouth to repress her giggle. "Well, then I grant you permission to drive me to my lessons whenever you choose."

They have an ongoing joke where they both feel equally capable of being the 'gentleman' in any given scenario and the arrangement calls for spontaneous games of Rock, Paper, Scissors whenever some sort of chivalry is implied. So he's not particularly surprised when she drops her hand from her mouth and plants it in a firm fist against her upturned palm. He returns the gesture and they end with her forming paper and him forming a rock, respectively, so he moves to the passenger side to open her door before taking both of their bags to the back of the truck. He continues onto the driver's side and finds her already buckled in and watching him.

"That game was more fun for me when you always picked rock," he comments as he checks his rearview mirror. He flicks his head over his shoulder to watch continuously as he back out.

"Well, when I picked rock I kept losing. I believe they call that adaptation; it's just another thing I excel at."

"Not really, Rachel," he says. They're safely stopped and waiting to turn out of the school parking lot onto Titan Lane, also known as Main Street save the mile stretch near the high school, so he sends her a withering look. "You're barely _surviving_ let alone adapting and quite frankly, I'm concerned about you."

"Why?" She asks. She folds her arms against her chest and turns in the seat to look at him. "I'm quite fine, thank you."

"Do you even _carry_ your cell phone anymore? Because no one who has called within the last week has gotten through."

She looks down and he thinks he knows what that means; it means _he_ isn't allowed to get through because she suspects he's allowing Finn to use his phone.

"So, why are you avoiding my stepbrother?"

She scoffs and turns back into her seat as he navigates the car out onto the road. He picks up some speed before she finally answers.

"I'm not _avoiding_ him. I'm just…just…" she stumbles and he looks over in time to see her throat move when she swallows hard. "It's just better for everyone involved if I keep my distance from him. He's under a lot of pressure right now and I don't really care to make it any worse."

"He's only under pressure he's put on _himself_," Kurt clarifies. "And at least half that pressure is that he's so concerned over your behavior."

"Well, he doesn't _get _to be concerned over my behavior. That was exactly my point to him last week and plainly he is still not listening."

"He heard you," he says simply. He's feeling his frustration rise and that is going to lead to an unproductive conversation for sure. "He just doesn't know what to do with the fact that he's still concerned anyway. You don't want his concern, he doesn't want to _be_ concerned and yet he is."

The look she sends him pleads louder than his words. "Please don't get involved. It's better this way."

"It is most definitely _not_ better this way," he says. He remembers coming with her to a vocal lesson one time after he was at Dalton and he drives right to the lady's house without thought. He pulls up as he makes his firm declaration and he rolls his eye as the car settles to a stop. "But we'll have to finish this conversation later."

She doesn't really even look at him as they go inside and it's not like he can blame her. He knows if roles were reversed, if things weren't just swimming along with himself and Blaine, he probably wouldn't be speaking with her at this point and after this much hard pushing.

She coaxes him into joining her for warm-ups and they sing a song from Wicked together just for fun and once it's over and she's musically said she's better for knowing him, she seems more relaxed and like she might actually open up. So he sits down on the unoccupied piano bench in the corner. Her teacher is kneeling on a chair across from her and Rachel is rather weirdly turned away from the floor-to-ceiling mirror with a small iHome at her feet.

"Okay, Rachel, I think we'll just go all the way through once. You practiced the notes I gave you yesterday, right?"

Rachel nods and she turns her hands in knots at her waist and he wonders what is coming next because he isn't sure he's ever seen her look nervous, regardless of the emotional level she was about to sing at. He thinks immediately that it must somehow be related to his stepbrother and he is more determined than ever to get his friend to open up so she can just sort something out. It's pretty obvious she's blocking a lot off these days. He should've known a song was going to be the key.

And his breath catches in his throat as soon as she starts to sing, already clutching at her stomach even as she starts off softly.

_Oh, my man I love him so; he'll never know. All my life is just despair but I don't care. When he takes me in his arm, the world is bright all right._

She's watching her teacher uncertainly. Joan nods and just says "Keep it small for now, good…"

_What's the difference if I say I'll go 'way? When I know I'll come back on my knees someday? For whatever my man is, I am his forever more…_

"Now open it up, but not all the way," Joan says as Rachel holds the note out. Her eyes are already closed and he knows it's in direct contrast to his own wide-eyed facial expression. She hasn't been withholding, but she's been saving and pouring it all into this song. He wonders if one song is really enough to contain that kind of emotion.

_Oh my man, I love him so. He'll never know. _

Her tone has widened out into a more open sound against the almost big-band feel of the music pouring from the tiny radio speakers.

_All my life is just despair but I don't care when he takes me in his arms… the world is bright all right…_

He sees tears dripping down her cheeks and she's actually clutching her shirt in her hands. He can't tell if it's the result of some sort of restraint or if she needs to hold onto something real to keep from getting lost in the melancholy. He knows that's all songwriting is for her—something to hold onto so she doesn't get lost. He's not sure he's ever been more worried for her.

_What's the difference if I say I'll go away when I know I'll come back on my knees someday…_

She breaks into the rapid words, her pitch faltering slightly as she struggles for a quick breath after her last powerful note, trying to maintain the volume and determination in her words.

Joan isn't nodding anymore and he knows there are notes about pitch and force coming. If she can't transition—well, it just doesn't matter. The emotion is rolling out of her and he knows she's meaning every single word she sings. How much has it cost her to prepare this song? She's a skilled vocalist, so the actual notes and words and rhythm come easily. The few that she's missed (and honestly, he wouldn't even notice if he weren't as well-trained and well-practiced as he is) barely register when it comes to that kind of undeniable power.

The rest of it? Well, she's getting the emotion of the song because he knows for certain now she's singing with a broken heart. It's the first real glimmer of hope that she still loves Finn, but… there's still something off about it. His mind is working overtime trying to figure it out. What is she holding back?

_For whatever my man is, I am his… forever … more…._

Her volume drops off considerably until she opens up for the last notes and finally releases her shirt to swing her arms out wide. He sighs. _She's totally messed up_. But in all likelihood, she'll be fine because she has this as an outlet. She doesn't need his counsel. And she most definitely doesn't need his brother.

But he's pretty sure she wants at least the last one, if not both.

Joan gives her some notes, they joke around for a minute, and eventually she drags him into singing along with her even though he can admit his voice does not belt quite the same way the song requires. It's perfect for her. And it may be the solo that wins them Nationals.

He throws an arm around her when they leave Joan's house as they cross the yard in the dimming light. She looks exhausted and he knows she has a post-Glee, post-vocal lesson meeting with a cool, dark room, a humidifier, and a cup of tea. She needs it to recharge. She used to invite him sometimes, when she knew he had finished rehearsal with the Warblers; she always claimed the 'unnatural noises' they made as part of acapella would ruin his voice otherwise. Now she says nothing.

"You're still in love with my brother, Rachel. I'm not blind."

She leans into his side as he retrieves the key fob for his Navigator from his pocket and clicks the button twice before he leans forward to open her door. She climbs in and he just watches and she looks at him.

"Don't tell anyone, okay?" She begs. "I'm not…I don't think I want to do anything about it just yet."

And he nods. Because what else can he really do? He's her friend now. He might be worried, but there's no way actually telling anyone she said that will make _anything_ better. It's pretty clear she's focusing on music right now which means she's focused on one thing only: her future. And he can't argue with that, even out of friendly concern.

"Okay, but Rachel?"

"Yes?" She says. She's keeping her voice low on purpose, something else he knows she does after her vocal lessons as a matter of routine.

"You should sing that song at Nationals. We'll win if you do. It sounds fantastic—even if I officially hate you for getting _another _solo." He reaches out a hand to squeeze her arm affectionately before he closes the door.

If there's one other thing he knows to be true about Rachel Berry? If she captains a championship show choir, especially if she leads them to a National championship, she has a _lot_ of other options. Beyond Jesse. Beyond Finn. Beyond this whole town. And beyond even _his_ wildest imagination—which is saying a lot because if there's one thing about the imagination they share? It's pretty vast and capable of almost anything.


	4. Chapter 4: A Hemorrhage In Your Mouth

_**A/N: **__ Major thanks to Paceismyhero and wood-u-like-2-no for the input on Rachel's rant. Spoilers through the season 2 finale, so if for some reason you haven't seen it, you might want to hold off on this. Thank you for the warm feedback and energetic reception to this story. You have no idea how much I appreciate it._

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><p><em><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>__I do not own Glee. There is an extremely vague reference to __**For Good **__from __**Wicked. **__I don't own that either. Chapter title and story title are from __**Thick as Thieves**__ by __**Dashboard Confessional **__and guess what? I don't own that either._

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: A Hemorrhage in Your Mouth<strong>

They were stuck in the stupid hotel room for two straight hours this morning before there was a handle on the group number and sweet merciful crap, if this is what it took the _first time_ they wrote an original song he was pretty sure he would work all summer to transfer back to Dalton in the fall. Paying his own tuition is an actual option for him because he _knows_ there's no way he's repeating this experience. Especially given the way the group tension ramps up before competitions and how this time is _no _different but completely worse.

Then again, he _knows_ he can write songs now and it might bode well for some summer plans—especially if Blaine gets the job he really wants at Six Flags. Kurt's pretty sure there are some long days of summer songwriting in his future and he's glad to be reassured he has a skill like that.

Either way, there is that and there is the fact he and Rachel got up super early to sneak out for their breakfast bonding and girl chat thing and she totally blew his mind before they realized not only were they both leaving Ohio but they were doing it _together_. They sounded amazing, being her first was amazing (and by that he means first duet on a Broadway stage because, even though he's frequently heard Finn refer to how _"smokin'_" Rachel is, he just _can't_ see her that way. As much as he truly adores her—in spite of her unfortunately disastrous fashion choices like the red tights with the yellow shoes he had to stare at All. The. Way. Here.—he isn't sure how Blaine had to kiss her to confirm he was gay when all Kurt has to do is look at her and realize he isn't remotely attracted to an admittedly beautiful girl), and living in New York as a power-couple of sorts is going to be amazing. He's glad she wants him to play a role in her fast-paced future and he's glad their futures are on the same track.

Truthfully, Kurt experienced a moment of non-Finchel-itude (not a word, no he doesn't care –he'll copyright it or something if he has to) because he realizes how fun it would be to have the petite, brunette would-be starlet annoying him all the time.

The whole point is, he's tired and the tension in the air is beginning to give him a headache. So he's in no way prepared for Finn to announce that he penned a song to sing with and to and for Rachel. And he's _really _in no way prepared to watch his friend _not _react and then calmly walk out of the room after they work on it for a while.

Oh, and he isn't particularly thrilled to watch the look that's some weird mixture of heartbroken, beaten-down, and totally pissed off cross Finn's face, either. But hey, at least Finn has some sort of reaction; even if it changes five times and no one, including Finn, knows what _any_ of it means.

He mentally flips a coin to decide which friend needs his guidance more urgently then he practically high-tails it out of the room, on Rachel's heels, after she leaves to "find water." He remembers _why_ she needs to and he remembers _who_ told him to help her. It wasn't so long ago. So he stops at the drink machine and buys three bottles of water with the last of the cash he has on him.

When he finds her, she's sitting on a plastic Adirondack chair in the pool area of the hotel, just kind of _staring_.

"Beverage for your thoughts?" He asks, taking the chair next to her and extending a bottle toward her with his outreaching arm.

She gives him a quick smile and accepts with a thank you; she takes a long drink followed by another and another. Once the bottle is empty, he whips the second toward her and she drinks about half of that one. She replaces the cap with methodical coolness and she looks over at him.

"Rachel, come _on_. You can't _not _feel anything. You aren't emotionally dead; but you have to say something."

She sends him a steady, certain look; it holds on for just a beat too long and he realizes he should be afraid.

"You've been after me for a while about this," she starts. "Did you see it coming?"

"Well…I may have above-average insight into this situation," he says. "But did I think Finn was going to write you a song?" He snorts a little indelicately. "Given his normal difficulty stringing together two related thoughts, you'll have to forgive me if I say _no._ I did not see this coming."

"What about the date?" She asks, eyeing him carefully and blinking slowly. She's still so uncharacteristically calm it's almost making him more nervous.

"He pulled me aside to ask where he could take you to make a good impression. If I would've known you would meet Patty LuPone and fail to take a picture with her, I might've suggested differently."

Rachel smiles without teeth again. It's better than nothing, but he still doesn't believe she's totally okay. Especially because she had _just_ made a firm declaration about claiming her future with nothing but whole-hearted ambition and now there's another complication. He had witnessed her first; they had shared it. He knows she belongs on that stage, that _exact_ stage, singing her heart out. And he knows his brother's timing is completely terrible.

His fingers are almost itching to text Blaine and ask for advice, but it's finals week at Dalton and Blaine probably won't have his phone turned on; it might not even be with him. Then again, if there's one thing Kurt knows he can handle on his own and without advice, it's Rachel's confusion. Rachel belongs on the stage at Gershwin—maybe even with him. There's no way they could _truly_ compete for roles but maybe they'll just have to write a musical with two female leads or something more groundbreaking. He's worried she'll get sucked into Finn again because she disappeared little by little (it wasn't obvious until later and he understands the cliché about hindsight now) when she was dating him and she's just beginning to truly recover and move on from their breakup.

She needs to move on so she can come back.

_Someone_ needs to give him competition for solos instead of just handing them over. He needs someone with blind ambition to spare so he will continue to get better and work harder. She is the only one who challenges him this way, and though he knows it used to be completely antagonistic, it's friendly now. He wants her to come back into her own and provide a friendly challenge.

Unless, of course, Mr. Schue continues to leave them locked in a hotel room together while he does God knows what; there is _no freaking way_ a high school competition would demand a teacher's attention for so long when he's responsible for thirteen teenagers. It's enough to send Kurt screaming back to Dalton where they were supervised by upperclassmen and a theoretical staff advisor. Then again, at least Jesse St. Suckface James (asshole- the curse is so unbecoming but he honestly can't help it and at least it stays internal) didn't come along. And at least he knows Rachel's been ignoring that idiot's text messages for the last three days.

"Pictures! I didn't even think of a picture!" Rachel buries her face in her hands, embarrassed. He smirks.

"Yes, well; this sort of thing is why you need _me_ with you."

"I wish you could've met her, too. It was…it was _surreal_," she gushes. The spark of exuberance in her is enough for now—if he's not going to get an actual smile.

"So which was more surreal: meeting Patty LuPone and having her rate your date or having that same date write you a tender yet demanding ballad duet after you crushed his heart and left it lying on the pavement?"

She looks over at him with dismay; if only he hadn't used her exact words against her, she would accuse him of melodrama.

She sighs. "It's just…" she stands up and she begins pacing. The movement seems to be all it takes to get her mouth and her mind moving all at once. "I don't think he truly understands. I've always thought Finn had an innate understanding of me, even sometimes since we broke up. He has still tried to encourage me to reach my goals and he's tried to remind me of the driven, ambitious girl he fell in love with and how he loved those things about me and…" she looks away briefly, but it's barely even a breath's length pause and it certainly isn't enough time for him to get in a word edgewise. "For the first time, I don't think he understands all that being _here_ truly means to me. He doesn't understand my renewed focus, he doesn't understand how I can love him and still choose not to be with him, and he clearly doesn't understand that I've never been _pretending_." She spits the last word out and pauses to take a drink from the bottle of water in her hand.

"C'mon, diva, don't you think…"

"I'm not done," she says sharply. She stops pacing only to screw the plastic cap back on the bottle. His eyes grow wide. "I'm just so frustrated. He is looking to me for a reaction and you are looking to me for a reaction and it is just _not_ that simple. Things are never that simple with Finn and I still feel _guilty_ for reducing him to a simple person in our conversation earlier when really, he is just not. I'm not afraid he would hold me back, Kurt, I'm just afraid I would hold myself back if I were with him. And what if I kept him from doing something he needs or wants to do?"

She stops talking for a split second and looks over her shoulder, her pacing having led her just a little away from where he sits. He sits up a little straighter and continues to watch her as she continues to word vomit.

"Of course I believe he can do anything he puts his mind to, but he is just not so focused. If he has a shred of actual ambition in there somewhere amidst all the confusion, this song is the first I've seen of it and I don't _want _his declaration of love and his promises and… I can't lose myself to him like that again because it took me so long to rediscover myself again and I can't afford to put my own dreams on the back burner because some…some _guy_ tells me to. I'm not that girl. I should never have _been_ that girl."

She's nearly out of breath from the force of her rant. She turns to look at him, her chest heaving with the effort of expending so many words and he's reasonably certain it's because she said all of it in one breath. She might be tiny, but she's been rehearsing for these diva moments all her life and she certainly has the lung capacity to get through them.

He better cut in before she catches her breath and starts talking again; standing out in the pool area with a pacing Primadonna is _not_ the same as focusing and writing another song that will allow them to secure a spot in the top ten so said Primadonna can then go knock their socks off with her solo. However, he hesitates just a second too long and she continues.

"I certainly can't be that girl again, Kurt. I just…I _can't_ do it. If I do it again, leaving might kill me. Of course I'm not speaking of actual physical death," she allows as she catches his eye roll. "I mean the kind of death and heartache that would forever disallow performing a happy role. I would be forever changed and in this case I fear it would _not_ be for the better."

He smirks and stands up, reaching out with a lightning fast hand to pull her next to him.

"As always, you don't give yourself enough credit."

"I think I'm not giving _him_ enough credit either." She mumbles sadly into his vest. He lets his hand rub over her smooth ponytail. "I just… why does he always come around at the wrong time? I've let him do this to me twice now and I can't do it again."

_This_ sounds more like the confused, heartbroken girl he was dead certain was hiding somewhere in that tiny spitfire frame. He rocks his feet back and forth slightly, unable to keep still. Neither of them can, so it works out.

"Why does he wait until I move on to say anything? It's like he only wants me so no one or nothing else can have me."

Kurt lets in a deep breath as she adjusts her arms slightly to put them around his waist instead of having them curled into his chest with the rest of her. "I don't think that's true. I think he wants you all the time," he says simply. "He just has some trouble expressing that desire in anything resembling a constructive way."

She huffs out a breath and pulls away from him and of _course_ she's crying a little bit. It's what she does.

"Obviously. He's attributing this pretending and not speaking to _me_ when he's the one…I've told him how I feel. I have not hidden my inability to stop loving him. I've never disguised my wanting to get back together. He just asked me to stop making it so obvious and I'd like to think I have, but…but in making it less obvious I've had time to think."

"Oh, boy," Kurt says. She's started pacing again and he's standing uselessly, watching her, and wishing he would've put sunscreen on beyond the normal SPF 15 in his moisturizer since they're obviously going to be here for a while.

She sits down on the Adirondack chair so forcefully the back tips forward and almost dumps her off. He fights the urge to laugh and reaches out to slap a hand on the back of it to keep her from pitching right into the swimming pool—even if it would be funny. Besides, he's proud of her makeup application (he's been subtly coaching her by muttering in her ear when she was sleeping on the airplane and at their sleepovers) and the smooth ponytail. She looks fantastic today and he _can't_ have her hard work and new dress ruined by the pool.

Her leg bounces three times, the click of her black high-heel more than apparent on the rough concrete. She stands up. He just watches.

"I have to find to tell him all of this, but… but I can't say it in front of everybody while we're in there. I know he's looking for a reaction. I can feel Quinn's eyes trying to burn holes through me and I can feel Santana hoping my voice disappears so she gets the duet or the solo. I can't say or do anything in front of anyone else." Her voice lowers, her gaze lowers. "I understand the humiliation of being turned down or called out in front of everyone in your life. I can't do that to him."

Kurt sighs. That's pretty much what happened to her, as near as he can tell, when Santana blurted out information _everyone_ else already knew. He's still irrationally angry with Finn for allowing anything like that to happen, and due to his verbosity, there was ultimately a gag order placed on Finn's romantic life in the Hudson/Hummel household around Christmastime. As far as he knows, it has not been lifted. Thus, he's remained virtually silent on the Finn/Quinn subject, which apparently has worked itself out anyway.

"It would be within your right," he notes easily.

She looks up and shakes her head. "I…I _do_ love him, Kurt. I can't do that. I…I won't."

"Okay. Well, maybe you should wait until we get home to do anything," he says. He tugs her next to him with an arm around her shoulders and she leans her head against him. Without speaking the change in destination aloud, they begin walking slowly toward the back entry that will take them back up to the room. They pause only long enough to drop her two finished water bottles into a bin marked with the recycling symbol. They resume their arms-around posture and continue walking and as they go, she issues her quiet thank you to him for understanding and knowing how to calm her down.

Not wanting to confuse her any more, he doesn't point out it was his stepbrother who taught him how. He's just glad they're good enough friends now that he witnessed an epic-level Rachel Berry Rant. He feels as though maybe he can relax because she let some of it out—even if he knows she barely scratched the surface.

Well and he's also glad his friend is coming back to life. There's always something to be said for that; plus, he's pretty sure his brother has no intention of backing off _or_ screwing this up. The song is really pretty sweet; it's definitely a song on the soundtrack to an epic love story.

"So… you're going to make it through this rehearsal without another rant, aren't you?"

He feels her body shift a little under his arm and he knows she shrugged. All he can really see is the top of her head. "I'll be fine. The only reason I said anything at all is because you followed me. It was coercion."

"I have to be good at _something_ since you've got the super-secret final round solo."

"You're good at being my friend," she says idly. "You're good at being Blaine's boyfriend."

"Yes, well, Blaine makes that easy because his face tastes so awesome."

"Is _that_ why you were trying to suck it off him when he dropped your math textbook off at my house last week?"

"Mmm," he says, carefully leaving his voice non-committal. "Perhaps."

"Are you in love with him?" She asks quietly. Her grip around his waist tightens as they stroll up to the elevator. She looks up at him with a quick glance and they silently agree to take the stairs. The room is only the fifth floor so it isn't too far.

"I don't know," he finally says. "I mean…what does that feel like?"

"Well, how do you feel when you're with him?"

"It's like magic," he says finally. Their footsteps echo on in the vast stack of concrete while they plod methodically up the stairs, in no real rush to return to their destination.

"I think you love him. But only you can really decide."

He sighs. "How do you feel when you're with Finn?"

Her body turns stiff in his arms but she doesn't pull away. Click, click, click. Her heels keep walking, a metronome in her long silence. He knows she'll answer.

"Right now it just kind of hurts," she admits. "I…I always want to be near him, but I know now that I can't. I want to come to New York and live here and work here. The stage this morning was a rush and…and when I see him it's just a mess. I can't reach my goals and sort through all that; not knowing how it will turn out makes it just impossible."

"Nothing is impossible, though."

He reaches out to grab the door that will admit them to the carpeted hallway and eventually the rooms full of teammates, friends, and whatever other labels one chooses to apply. She puts her hand out to stop him.

"So I'm not sure I understand. Do you want me to get back together with Finn? Or do you want me to leave Lima and come here with you and Blaine?"

They stand awkwardly, facing the door without pulling it open, and his words bounce off the metal and right back into his face; he speaks slowly so they don't knock him down. "Rachel, knowing you—truly knowing you—is like being in on this really great secret. I don't want to share, but really? Finn was there first. He's part of your heart and part of you. I'm not sure he does anything he does on purpose, necessarily, but he _does_ usually think about things before he does them. Sometimes he agonizes and thinks about them for a long time. So my guess is all of this has been a long time coming; he doesn't want to tarnish your dreams. He just wants to be with you while he figures out his. And, as much as it pains me to admit it, you might both ultimately feel more successful that way. He just wants you to stop pretending you don't want him. Just … even if you aren't going to be with him, just tell him that you want it but you're choosing differently. Be totally honest with him."

He hears her sniffle and just continues standing there in stoic silence, before the unopened door. He doesn't believe in destiny. He doesn't really believe in metaphors. But that one is just obvious.

"Besides… rent will be cheaper to split _four_ ways than _three_ next year, even if I have no idea what to call the four of us."

Her laugh is squeaky and the little "what" she lets out is nothing but curious.

"Well, putting Finchel and Klaine together is kind of a name-mashing disaster. Our last names are no better."

"Then stop trying to label it," she advises flatly. He squeezes her shoulder and chuckles.

"Well, labels are my _thing_."

She gives a small laugh and leans forward to open the door. He knows he hears her say it as they pass the four doors necessary to get to the New Directions' room after a long pause, and he knows it's an all-encompassing. "Thank you."

He just holds on a little tighter in response, finally setting her loose once they get back into the room. He drops down onto the bed next to Mercedes and she tiredly rests her head on his shoulder.

Ultimately, he can't resist the urge to send Blaine a text message, even knowing Blaine won't receive it any time soon.

_Operation Finchel Reunion update: Finn wrote a song for her. She says she can't go back to him but they're singing together. _

Rachel approaches Puck to discuss something about the group number and he watches Finn go over to where the two are working feverishly over a notebook spread on the ottoman Finn had previously been using when he needs to stretch out his legs for a minute. The conversation appears at least cooperative if not entirely comfortable. Kurt follows up his first text with another.

_They're singing together and it's going to be awesome. If that and the song she's singing in the final round here don't get them back together, I'll buy your sheet music for that Six Flags audition._

"Do you think we can put away our phones and_, _I dunno – _focus_?" Finn snaps in annoyance as Santana's phone rings and Kurt is finishing up his text.

Okay, well… maybe he'll need to find some milk and have a lady chat with his brother tonight. Maybe _both _of them need his interference.


End file.
